Lonely
by Rebecca Potterhead
Summary: Pandora Pond, a depressed orphan, gets her letter to Hogwarts. Follow her journey and watch her find out the real reason her father died. (I swear it's better than it sounds, I'm just not very good at these things.)
1. Chapter 1

**Do you ever think about your life and realize it's not worth living? Because I do, every single day. **

It was my father who taught me how to read. At the age of three, he gave me my first book. _The tales of Beedle the Bard. _It's one of my most beloved books. It's my security book. Every time I'm feeling worse than I usually do, I read my security book and all of a sudden, I'm just feeling bad, not worse than bad. It makes me think less about taking my own life and more about keeping the memories alive. I can't just let the memories die.

I used to hope, even when I got shipped off to this horrific orphanage, that he'd still come back to me. As a child I would have very vivid dreams and daydreams, where he would come knocking at the door to Walter's Orphanage and run up the stairs to where my room is, and take me home. He would scoop me up in his arms and carry me home, and then we'd live happily ever after. Stupid dreams made up by the imagination of a stupid child.

But I am no longer a child. Life made me grow up.

As I got to the age of eight and nine, just two and three years ago, I matured quite a lot when one of the kids at the orphanage taunted me and teased me about how no one loved me, and how no one would never adopt me. They were right though. No one did adopt me.

Who would want a black haired, sad girl with scars at her wrists? Exactly, no one.

My own eyes were very much like my dad's, although his eyes were a darker shade of blue than mine. My eyes have a hint of dark green in them. I cannot remember anything else about my dad's appearance other that he had a dark hair color. My guess is black, because my own wavy hair is black.

I don't know anything about my mother. I've never met her and I don't think I ever will. The first few months at the orphanage, when I gave up on the thought that daddy would come back, I thought that she would come and get me, but she didn't. Everybody just lets you down, don't they?


	2. Chapter 2

**AN/ The next chapter will be longer and better, I swear. Please review, it would mean a lot to me if you did.**

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Celebrating your birthday at an orphanage wasn't much fun, especially when you don't have any friends. No friends equals no presents. The leader of the orphanage couldn't care less if it was your birthday or not.  
But there is one person at the orphanage that actually cares. She always makes us pancakes at our birthday.

Mrs. Smith. She is the housemother and one of the nicest people I know. Not that I know very many people. Mrs. Smith is quite stern but she's fair, which is one of my favorite qualities about her. Unfair people who gives you the wrong treatment just because they don't like is one of the many things I hate in life.

The other thing I like about her is her amazing pancakes. I can't wait until tomorrow when she's going to make some for me.

I officially turn 11 in just a few hours, and I couldn't wait. The anticipation was killing me and I couldn't sleep, no matter how hard I tried. I was lying in bed, it was 12am and I had absolutely no idea what I could do to make the time pass by faster. I could not think of one single thing I could do that wouldn't make me get in trouble and ruin my upcoming birthday. So I just stayed in my very uncomfortable bed and thought.

Every year around my birthday, I always think about my family a lot. I usually try to imagine what it would be like to wake up in my own home, with my dad peeking around the door, maybe with my little brother or sister standing at his knees, holding my presents as they try to decide a nice way to wake me up. My mother would be there, smiling and caring. In my dreams, she used to be my bestfriend.

I remember when I first came here, I would tell my therapist about all these dreams I would have of my imaginary family and what my life could be like. But one day, my therapist, Maggie, said something I will never forget. She told me I had to grab a hold of reality and appreciate what I had, and not fill my life with fantasies and dreams only to be disappointed and let down later in life.

And those words have been like my Bible ever since.

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**AN/ Any pairings you would like in the future? NOT Harry and Pandora by the way. I have other plans for Harry *winky face***


	3. Chapter 3

Waking up, I look around and rub my blurry eyes before swinging my legs off the bed and head for the closet containing the little clothes I have. After lazily putting on a pair of black tight fitting jeans and a plain, grey t-shirt, I realize something. It's my birthday!

Quickly, I brushed my hair and ran downstairs. I continued running until I reached the kitchen. What I saw in the kitchen was pure heaven – Mrs. Smith making her famous birthday pancakes. I made a little smile and walked fast towards her in excitement. Lucy looked at me happily, "It's good to see you in such a good mood. It has been quite a while since I last saw you smile".

My mood dropped a bit as I said, "Well, it's the first time in a long time since I have had something to smile at." After the words left my mouth, her grin fell and she looked at me with a sad expression. "Honey, you know you can come and talk to whenever you want, right?"

Suddenly exhausted, I simply nodded and turned quickly around to sit down at my usual seat at the dining table.

While waiting for my delicious blueberry pancakes, all I did was stare at the one place in Walter's Orphanage that didn't look like it had been trashed by teenagers. The kitchen was open and full of light, but still – I didn't really like it. Its color was bright yellow, a color that I resent with all my heart. But the atmosphere in the kitchen was what I liked the most about it. Everyone was almost always happy, or at least not mean and cruel, when we were in the kitchen. Everybody knew that you weren't supposed to make a scene at the dining table, and if you did, you'd get sent up to your room and weren't allowed to come down again until the next day.

So basically, everyone behaved in the kitchen area. And that's what I like about it - the kids aren't acting like some misbehaved, naughty children.

A sudden noise woke me up from my own little world. I looked for the source of the noise, and it took me less than three seconds to find it out. It was Mrs. Smith putting a plate with pancakes in front of me.

I gave her a small smile and nodded my appreciation. I wasn't really the one for words.

I leaned over and stuck my nose in the pancakes to smell them. Even though I usually didn't eat much, I dug in them without a single thought of how fat I'm going to get. It took me less than ten minutes to finish three delicious blueberry pancakes topped with a heavy layer of syrup.

Mrs. Smith smiled, looking pleased. I didn't return the smile, not to be rude of course, really just because I didn't feel like smiling. The thoughts have caught up on me. Suddenly feeling ill, I put down the cutlery.

I don't know what I did wrong, but all of a sudden Mrs. Smith didn't look so pleased anymore.

She sat down at the seat above me and cocked her head slightly to the left. "Panda, I know the other kids have been tough on you, but I don't understand why you're like this. You're always so gloomy and sad. Depressed, even. Don't think I haven't seen the scars on your wrists."

I'm not entirely sure what gave me the feeling that she was lying, but I could feel it in every single bone in my body that she was. Why I have never felt his way around her before, I do not know but I'm feeling it now and that was all that mattered. I have gotten the same feeling around many other people at this place, but never her. Not until now at least.

When I didn't answer, she continued talking. "If you could just tell me what's wrong, I might be able to help you. Just tell me the pro" – all of a sudden, I stood up, looked her right in the eye and coldly said, "stop pretending to care, because I know you don't." I thought my voice was cold, but that assumption was to be proved differently when the loving and caring Mrs. Smith answered: "Fine. I don't care. But if I act like I care the paycheck is bigger."

In just a few seconds I found out that one last people in this world I thought was on my side, wasn't. It's funny how you think you know people when you really don't.

All I could feel was disappointment. Disappointment was a feeling I was quite used to. Every day people let me down, so I wasn't so shocked when Mrs. Smith said the words she did. People never really care. Especially about me. It's about time I learned that.


End file.
